


The Final Boss :: anthology

by godtyun



Category: TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabble Collection, Gen, Internalized Misogyny, Physical Abuse, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 01:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21438184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godtyun/pseuds/godtyun
Summary: An alternate universe where they never pursued music. Where things pursued them.Soobin with a pocketwatch in detention.Yeonjun with a ramen cup at the PC cafe.Beomgyu with a pink wand at the gift shop.Taehyun with a crab at the beach.Hyuka with a ceramic bowl at the hanok.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 38





	1. soobin. 2019.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw // physical abuse  
tw // ableist slur

One.

Two.

Three.

Four. Soobin winces. Two more.

Five. He squeezes his eyes shut, his hand shaking in the grip of his teacher.

Six. He stutters out an exhale, tears stinging his eyes.

“Sit.”

Soobin does as he’s told-- always does as he’s told. Soobin sits down, his right wrist numb. Throbbing. But he grits his teeth, avoiding the gazes of the other students.

An A-student should be manly in detention. Manly. Soobin watches the next student go up, squeezing his affected hand shut. The muscles respond slowly. It takes five seconds to close his hand partially, and then the pain becomes too much and he lets go.

He always hated belts. Hated his uncle’s belt, too. Hated how that man would threaten him with it. He grits his teeth.

One. Mr. Oh slaps the new student, a girl, once.

Two. Soobin stares out the window, unable to watch any longer.

Three. The girl whimpers. Soobin shuts it out, shuts out the pain he feels through her. His hand reacts as if he’s the one being hit.

He will never forget the sensation.

Never. Never. Never.

Four. The sunlight catches on some metal thing in the corner of his eye, causing him to flinch. He finds the source: a heavy, stainless steel round… thing dangling from Hyungjin’s own belt. It’s no bigger than his palm.

Hyungjin, as if sensing him, looks back sneakily.

_ What is that? _Soobin mouths.

Five. Hyungjin looks down at the object, then back up to Soobin. _ Pocket watch _, he mouths back with a clever smirk. He turns the thing over, and sure enough, a watch-face presents itself.

A pocket watch. Soobin has never seen one outside of old museums. Pretty.

Soobin follows that clock for two hours. Through the pain of writing repetitions, “I respect my teachers, I respect my teachers, I respect my teachers, I respect my teachers,” his wrist burning, the words slow, shaky, messy, his handwriting tainted by physical trauma, his wrist red and raw…

… he watches the little clock, two rows down, one aisle to the left.

The time goes a little faster. He imagines a world where he could escape inside that clock. He could be Alice in Wonderland. He could be soft and free. He wouldn’t have to be manly. He wouldn’t have to be an A-student.

He would be Soobin. He would be a Soobin that knew no other Soobins. He would be the most unique hero and play with animal friends.

Dumb.

Retarded.

Soobin snaps back to reality.

Right.

You’re not a kid anymore, Soobin. No time for dreaming. Just be strong. Be strong, Soobin. Be manly, Soobin. Be smart, Soobin. Don’t be retarded, Soobin. Be an adult, Soobin. You’re so tall, Soobin. You’re a man, Soobin.

You can take the pain, Soobin.

Don’t be a pussy, Soobin.

But maybe a little dream won’t hurt. Just a 

little, 

tiny, 

pocket-sized 

dream.


	2. yeonjun. 2019.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO ENTER?

(O) YES

(X) NO

TALK TO THE BARTENDER?

(X) YES

(O) NO

TALK TO THE PROSTITUTE?

(X) YES

(O) NO

TALK TO THE DOG?

(O) YES

(X) NO

THE DOG HAS A BELL AROUND ITS NECK.

(O) CUTE

(X) NOT CUTE

THE DOG WAGS ITS TAIL.

(O) PET THE DOG

(X) TALK TO SOMEONE ELSE

“Cute.” Yeonjun pops a Cheeto into his mouth, twirling in the PC room swivel chair. The _ only _ Korean-run PC room he can find in New Orleans. He loves traveling, but it’s hard to find Korean businesses in certain parts of the U.S.

He should really visit Korea one day.

ADOPT THE DOG?

(?) YES

(?) NO

Yeonjun hesitates. His in-game character has no money and realistically, he can’t afford to take care of the dog. His missions take up too much time and he knows that the dog will require too much of him.

But… 

ADOPT THE DOG?

(O) YES

(X) NO

He doesn’t really care.

“Ramyun,” a voice calls out. He looks up just as a middle-aged Korean woman sets down his snacks in front of him. “Aigo, handsome boy.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles. 

“Customer Choi Yeonjun?” she asks with a sly smile.

Yeonjun nods. _ ? _

“Someone left this for you.”

And she pulls out a stiff envelope in the most brilliant shade of deep red. Yeonjun’s eyes magnetize to it as she gracefully lays it on the edge of the table.

“Who…?”

But she floats away.

… 

Yeonjun isn’t in the business of questioning gifts. What if it’s from his girlfriend? He’s not going to pass that up. 

If he looked up, he would see that his game screen froze on the dog. But he doesn’t. Instead, he greedily rips the envelope open, pressing his fingers on the heavy volume inside. But when he opens it, his eyebrows furrow.

In Korean:

> _ Dear Customer Choi, _
> 
> _Thank you for adopting one of our dogs! We—_

Yeonjun’s eyes flit to the screen, resting on the dog. The golden lab smiles at his character, tail frozen.

Then the choice pops up.

K̴̨̰̬͇̪̞̹̋̂̌̈̄͘̚͞I̵̧̥̘̱̲̓̆̅̇̋̑L̵̹̥̞̬͉̈́͗̐͋̅L̥̭̳̪͎̠̉̆̉͢͞͡ T̵͎̥͈̣̼̞̏͑́̐͗͑̋͡H̸̡͍̖̖̙͓͖͌̃̔͛͋̓̇͝E̸̗͖̣̣̻̥̗̓̏̓̽̑͗̔̃͒͝ D̵̨̟̱̻̝̹̤̳̺̆̂͒͑͛̍̌͟͠O̶̳̘̤͕͓̍̓̽̌̋̊̉͟G̛̖̯͉̘͓͚̜͚̯̻̅͂̋͗̽͞͞?̸̡̞͉͔͑̒͋̍͋̊̈́̚͢

̢̧̞̲̫̬̝̽̾̋́̾͟͜͞(̬̟̪̺̯͉̯̠͇̀͐̊̋̐̉͠ͅ?̶̡͇͖̙͖̖̄̋̃̃̿͌͘͟͡)̰͖̼͙̰͎̦̐̓͂͗́̊̿ Y̴̤̫̘̜̤͍͚̅̉̋̑̌́̕͢͟͠E̖̥͈̤̻̽͌́̆͘S̸̨̱̺̙̻̤͌̓͑̓͆̏

̸̡̳͕̘̻̹͍̃̔͋́͒͞͝͡(̸̧̗̯͍̱̂̊̇̉̆͛͘?͈̭͈̠̣̭̘̝̮̒̇̇͛͌̾̍̚͟)̸͎͔͈̩̪̻̪̩͐̋̽̌͋͜͜͞ Ǹ̵͚̟͎̼̰͚͒̓̄̈́͜ͅO̯͇̝̒̌́͛̋̀̐̈́͊͘͢͜

̧̩͈͍̟̀͒̍̈́͌̅̾̒

Yeonjun’s breath catches. _ Freaky. Did I get Doki Doki Literature Club without realizing it? _

_ I’m out. _

_ I don’t like horror games. _

He shuts down the PC, leaving his ramen untouched.

“Take care!” he calls out to the owners, shrugging his coat on.

When he stuffs his hands in his pockets, he feels something stiff and pulls it out. 

_ Did I take the envelope _ ? he wonders. _ Guess so _.

He tosses it in a bin outside the PC room and takes the late bus back to his hotel.

The envelope waits for him on his bed.

When he opens it, it will read:

TALK TO ME?

(YES) YES

(YES) YES


	3. beomgyu. 2011.

Beomgyu loves pink. Every year on his birthday, his mom buys him a pink cake and sticks little rainbow candles in it. 13 candles. He’s not 13 yet, but he loves the number 13 and has loved it for as long as he can remember, so his mom always puts 13 candles on his cake. And he loves it every time. He can’t count that quickly, but he can feel it in his bones if it’s 13. He doesn’t need to count. He has his gut and he has his mom.

His mom is in the gift shop right now. Beomgyu hangs out in the arcade at Everland’s entrance, waiting for his mom to finish shopping. He doesn’t like shopping. He likes pink though,

and this stupid pink wand is eluding him. The crane dips, dips, dips… The grabber zeroes in on the plastic stick and Beomgyu holds his breath, looking up at it in awe. Just…

YES! The wand dangles in the grabber’s grip, swinging as it is carried to the dispenser drop. Beomgyu presses against the machine, his fingers trembling. The wand is so pretty. If he could just…

BINGO BANGO! It clutters down the drop. Beomgyu smiles brightly. “HAHAHAHAHA!” He kneels down and opens the little plastic door, wrapping his hand around the wand. His heart pounds excitedly.

Wonjun showed him a picture of this wand once. Card… sakura something. But it doesn’t really matter to him.

He waves his cute pink wand around as he runs over to the gift shop. It doesn’t even bother him when his mom takes 15 more minutes to shop.

There is nothing in the world but Beomgyu and his little pink wand.


	4. taehyun. 2016.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

The tiny crab does not respond.

“Tell me a secret, Taehyun!” he imitates, bouncing the crab lightly.

“Okay, but you can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t! Pinky promise!”

“I can’t pinky promise you, you’ll injure me.” He smiles at his little joke, his knees burying in the sand comfortably. “Hm… should I tell you?”

The little crab attempts to escape, but Taehyun continues to maneuver his hands, preventing the little creature from running off.

“I’m not going to go back.”

Even though the crab keeps trying to run, unaffected by his words, Taehyun imagines that it stops to look up at him in shock.

“That’s right. I’m going to swim into the ocean. Then they won’t be able to take pictures of me anymore.”

“But Taehyun, you’re so handsome! Don’t you want to model?”

“Yes, I’m handsome,” he agrees solemnly. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”

The crab swoons. “You’ll ruin this shoot!”

“So?”

“Where will you go?”

“Hm… I want to go to the zoo.”

“The zoo?”

“Mm. I’ll talk to the tigers and the owls and the pandas.”

“Then what are you talking to me for?”

Taehyun pouts. “Can’t I spend a moment with a crab?”

“But I’m so tiny. No one cares about me.”

“Someone cares about you.”

“Do you care about me?”

A deep voice breaks the ventriloquist exchange. “Taehyun!”

Taehyun boredly looks up, meeting the gaze of his manager in the far distance. “Yes?”

“It’s time to change.”

“Okay,” he calls back. In the time it takes to respond to that man, the crab falls off the edge of his pinky. Before he can find it again, it burrows into the sand, disappearing completely.

Taehyun stands up, brushing the sand off his shins and _carefully_ brushing off his shorts. Shorts that do not belong to him. He is a kid wearing clothes that aren’t his.

> “Do you care about me?”

When Manager dresses him in a sailor uniform complete with a fluffy bear hat, Taehyun stares blankly and lets himself be a ragdoll, thinking about that crab. If only _ he _ could burrow into the sand. If only.


	5. hueningkai. 2017.

Hyuka’s ankles are numb from sitting. “Grandma, I finished,” he sings, hoping that he sounds convincing. He presents his ceramic bowl to the little woman hunched over herself. She glances at it and clicks her tongue disapprovingly.

Hyuka flinches.

“Again.”

Fine. Fine. This time, Hyuka will paint a flower vine so beautiful that his grandmother will die on the _ spot _ out of shock. She will be so floored by his magnificent roses that her soul will literally leave her body.

Hyuka cannot stop thinking about League of Legends.

There is one computer room in this traditional Korean house and he can feel it drawing him from three rooms away. But no, he stays put in the courtyard, willing his detail brush to harness the spirit of Monet.

Grandma doesn’t care about Western painters. Grandma is Mom’s mom. Dad’s parents died before he was born, but Hyuka imagines that if _ they _ were alive, they would probably like Monet.

Maybe if they had lived, he would speak better English. Maybe then he could easily embrace his foreigner status instead of feel like he’s being kept out of his own culture.

But some things can't be changed— especially not by a 15-year-old. He is a “Korean-American” who can’t even speak English well and he is painting flowers on a bowl with his grandmother and it—

League of Legends.

He really wants to play League of Legends right now.

Anything but this. “Grandma—”

“Again.”


End file.
